


Male Reader X Female Executioner (Welcome to the Game)

by CampGreen



Category: Welcome to the Game (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Horror, Literature, Multi, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 07:33:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11641893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampGreen/pseuds/CampGreen
Summary: A direct sequel to my "Male Reader X Female Kidnappers" story. Welcome to the Game was developed by Reflect Studios. A request from SilverWolf2010.





	1. The Executioner

You wistfully reflect upon your past life to the humming and rattling of the van as it drives through the outskirts of some town hours away from home. Your family, your friends, your birthdays, your nightmares. You thought your life was so unfair, yet you had so many aspirations, so many dreams you were determined to fulfill. Now you're the prisoner to a bunch of sadists, being transported to god knows where. The blood and semen pooling around your legs start to stain, and the tears on your skin brought on by flurries of punches and kicks devolve to bruises. The vehicle comes to another halt, and its two passengers pop open their doors. The Kidnapper that's been looming over you whilst leaned against the wall grasps the hair on your head and lugs you out from the van after yanking the shutter door up and open. 

Your scalp ferociously stings as, like a child's toy, you're dragged through the grass of the surrounding wilderness by the mop embedded in it. At this point you don't even bother struggling anymore. The binds and gag, along with the sheer physical strength of your captors and the terrible condition your figure and soul have decayed to, all puts you in a lock you've long realized to be hopelessly inescapable. The three shadowy women take you to what looks to be a bunker in the middle of nowhere, opening the door and descending down a flight of concrete stairs, with each and every step slamming into your back to further bruise it. The bunker's belly, which looks exactly like a basement, is pitch black, except its heart, which has an active spotlight staring down onto it. Below the light is a single figure digging through a supply cart, before the Kidnapper lets go of your hair and you're left on the freezing cold floor to overhear their conversation within the ocean of blackness you're drowning in. 

_"Tatyana! Olga! Sasha!"_ the jolly, dramatic voice of a woman greets. _"My three favorite employees! Got ol' Auntie Executioner a good catch this time?"_

You manage to work out who's who with context clues. The one who seems to be the leader, Tatyana, answers. _"Да, какой-то ребенок из-"_

_"All I hear is vodka and communism, babe, you're gonna have to speak English."_

_"We got your fucking boy toy,"_ Sasha, the most violent one, snaps. _"Can you pay up already?"_

_"Hold your Blyat-mobiles, let me take a sample. The boy's so quiet it wouldn't surprise me if you accidentally killed him on the way here and brought a corpse."_

One of the four pairs of boots step towards you. Two cold hands seize your cheeks and you're pulled into the spotlight and eye-to-eye to the woman who's definitely about to slowly butcher you. My God, she's absolutely soaked head-to-toe in blood. It's like she showered her body and washed her clothes in tubs upon tubs of the liquids drained from entrails. You wouldn't be surprised, seeing how everything else about her screams "psychotic". Speaking of her clothes, they consist of what might be a soggy white T-shirt tightly gripping her torso, making breasts that put all of the Kidnappers to shame pop out. Like her henchwomen, she's also in black military pants, boots, and fingerless gloves, but instead of a balaclava, her face is hidden behind a white hockey mask, blood leaking from the eyeholes and down the glossy plastic. After eye-fucking every inch of your battered body, she resumes conversing with her cohorts. 

_"Actually, darlings, if I double your pay, would you mind doing me a favor?"_

_"You had me at 'double your pay',"_ Olga, the normally quiet one, replies.

 _"Stay here and help me film the next stream, just this one time,"_ the Executioner requests. Wait a second, did she just say stream?

 _"What are we, a fucking camera cr-"_

_"Shut up, Sasha,"_ Tatyana scolds. _"What do you want us to do, exactly?"_

_"I think this kid might be the purest one yet. It'd be a waste to just skin him like the rest. I want to have fun with him, and the more the merrier, am I right?"_

_"Well, we kinda already fucked his brains out on the way here."_

_"What?! Aw, you already deflowered him?! Ugh, you goddamn Ruskies couldn't keep your clits in your pants if your lives depended on it, could you?!"_

_"Guilty as charged. But hey, you said it yourself, he's a cute one."_

_"Ah, you win some, you lose some, I suppose. So what if he has some experience. Nothing could prepare him for what's coming next anyways."_ She hammily gestures her hands alongside her equally extravagant, booming voice, like she's in a play. _"Come on, ladies, let's have a Girl's Night Out for all the sickos on the deep web to enjoy!"_

Oh fuck. Oh God, no. Now you understand. The Executioner is a Red Room host. Not only are you going to get gang-raped and tortured by a quartet of criminals but several will watch it live from the safety of their own homes, using the same god-forsaken platform that got you roped into this awful, awful nightmare in the first place. 

_"Sasha, why don't you get the stream set up for me, doll?"_

_"Fine."_

_"Careful not to break the laptop with those meat-slabs you call hands."_

_"How about I break your fucking jaw against the concrete, cunt?"_

_"Sasha,"_ Tatyana calls off. _"Don't threaten clients."_

_"Aw, don't worry about it, Tanya, it's just friendly jabbing. Speaking of jabbing, can someone be a dear and get that boy unconscious already?"_

_"Gladly,"_ Tatyana growls as she looms over you and reeves her boot up. 

Before you can even squeak out a plea from underneath your gag, she brutally strikes you in the face with her stone-hard sole, instantly stomping you into a bout of unconsciousness.


	2. Red Room

You're ripped right back out of it when your body endures a split second of subzero burn with the splash of a bucket of ice water against your face. You pant and dart your head around as your wet, sopping hair hangs down your face. Your hands are inescapably tied together by a firm rope connected to the rafters from above, below the spotlight showering you in brightness, and you're left to dangle completely nude a few centimeters from the floor, without a gag. Now they want to listen to your screams. You hear a cheerful whistling coming from the shroud of darkness around you, along with what sounds like a squeaky cart being wheeled closer and closer with every breath. A few feet directly in front of you is the blue glow of a laptop screen burning through and hovering in the blackness, with its webcam staring you in the eyes as you're about to be tortured in front of dozens, hundreds, maybe even thousands. The cart finally reaches the ray of light you're hung in, letting you bask in horror at the inventory of tools you're about to be mangled by. A horsewhip, a car battery, and a collection of well-honed scalpels.

 _"Well, look who's up early!"_ the Executioner's theatrical voice happily guffaws at you as she steps into the epicenter of the spotlight. She turns around to address her audience, buttocks happily jiggling in her cargo pants behind her. _"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to tonight's show! In this week's episode, we have a teen from New England, ripe and ready for all the torture our efforts can provide!"_ she says as she swipes the whip from up off the cart. _"Now, my crew did get a little carried away when transporting him here, but don't worry. We'll make him feel like a virgin again before the night's over with!"_ she says in a voice so reassuring, you'd feel at ease if you didn't know she's talking about breaking your mind and body down to nothing. 

Your bones rattle and your heart jumps when you hear the sound of the crop thrashing up against the cart, producing a terrifying crack. 

_"Mm mm mm. Do you hear that beautiful sound?"_ The Executioner turns around to mockingly interrogate you. You notice her eyes are as scarlet as the blood painting her clothes. _"Ever wonder what it was? The crack of a whip, I mean?...It's a sonic boom. That's right, this thing hurts so fucking bad it even makes the sound barrier scream in terror. How many lashes do you figure I should give him, girls?"_ she asks to the encircling darkness. _"Group poll."_

 _"Makes no difference to me,"_ Olga shrugs. The Kidnappers seem to be just disembodied voices since they're not in the light.

 _"I dunno, two hundred?"_ Tatyana throws out.

 _"Two thousand,"_ Sasha demands.

 _"Damn, Sasha,"_ the Executioner gasps. _"Can you even spell 'mercy'?"_

_"Piss off."_

_"As a matter of fact, I don't think the girl can even count that high,"_ you can just barely hear as the Executioner whispers to the webcam. _"Actually, to Hell with you commies, let's ask the chat!"_ Even from a distance, you watch in horror as the laptop's glowing monitor is flooded with message after message, like a passionate crowd screaming out bids at an auction. _"Let's see here...ten, fifty, a hundred, a thousand, I'm getting all kinds of numbers! But our audience seems less concerned with the amount and more focused on where all of those flogs are headed. Popular vote's obsessed with the boy's ass, and I can't say I blame them."_

 _"I'm fine with that,"_ Tatyana agrees. _"Now let's make the kid bleed."_

 _"Then it's settled!"_ She tosses Olga the whip as she emerges from the darkness. _"And you know what? Whip till your arm gets tired, Olga."_

_"I was in Spetsnaz for five years, Ex. I'm gonna be whipping till there's nothing left."_

_"And?"_

You can practically see the sadistic grin behind Olga's ski-mask. Oh God, can this really be happening? Oh, Jesus Christ, no... She turns you around so your sweaty back is facing the laptop and an explosion of fiery, unrelenting pain starts in your ass but spreads to every atom in your body in less than a millisecond. The tail of the whip rips a massive bruise across the two tight bubbles of skin. You let out a massive shriek of agony that echoes throughout the entire chamber and ruins your throat. Before you can even recover, another lash is given, then another, and then another. You lose count, but only because your mind is so distracted by the cancerous pain that feels like it's devouring your entire being. Your butt is tattered and maimed by the riding crop as its tip cracks against your cheeks with each swing. Every time, that terrible sound the Executioner was rambling about bellows across the whole room, instantly followed by your pained yelp. The torment is definitely excruciating, but it could be worse. You thank God it's just your ass and it's just a horsewhip. If it were say, your back against a bullwhip, you'd go into a shock coma. Actually, that's starting to sound like heaven, the deeper you get into this hellhole. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the webcam's mirror and see what looks like two red balloons tied to the back of your waist. 

A blindfold slides over your eyes while you hear the whip flop to the ground and two palms slap down onto your broiling ass, making it sizzle and hiss as you squeak in surprise from Olga's fingertips being swallowed by all of the ruby-tinted skin. She gets on her knees, lifts up her mask a bit, and starts frolicking her tongue up and down the insides of your crimson ass-cheeks, making your feet flinch and twitch in a twisted pleasure as they sway from above the floor. With the Kidnapper deeply burrowing every centimeter of her tongue into your rectum in front of a crowded chat room, the Executioner, you can tell by the metallic stench of blood coming off of her, comes around to join in on the "fun". She lifts up her gore-stained shirt so a couple of pillows of flesh are in your face, runs her hand through your soggy hair, and shoves your lips into her cleavage, Olga still sloppily sucking the margin of your large intestine in the meanwhile. Your tongue scrapes up the rounded skin canvases until settling on her nipples. You suck on the things like instinct, which unleashes a torrent of warm milk upon your mouth. Your eyes go wide from underneath the blinder. You realize this is probably the closest thing to solace you're gonna get, so you take advantage of it by vehemently sucking the things for every ounce of milk they're worth, making the psycho giggle and coo with pleasure. Lost in the taste of the syrupy pallid nectar you siphon out of the Executioner's teats, you shudder at the implication that this demented woman has given birth to a child once before, if her bust is such laden with cream. 

In the storm of spit being swirled around in your anus, you feel glimpses of a finger being popped up your ass to vigorously finger you raw. At the same time, two lips wrap around your hardened dick and starts mimicking Olga, washing your extremities with a wet, fat tongue. With three admittedly well-endowed women piled on top of you at once in an unwanted, overwhelming orgy, you climax in seconds, hearing your cum splat against someone's face in the midst of the hurricane of skin roaring about you. The Executioner intensifies the cascade of milk by wringing and scrunching her own tits until they run dry, which overflows your mouth so whitened liquid starts pouring down your chin. You swallow as much as you can, ultimately strawing up what must've been at least two entire cups of milk before the over-sized things went arid. Your stomach is filled to the brim, and it feels like you just gorged yourself on a buffet. The trio of psychopaths finally unlatch from you to give you some breathing space. Something slices through your restrains so you slump to the ground on your knees. A boot flies into your face and sends to your back. Your soul freezes when all of a sudden, a dull, gnawing, monstrous pain sweeps throughout your body like the cloud of a nuke consuming everything in its wake. The Executioner had stomped down right in between your legs, unlocking hopefully the absolute peak of torture as she sadistically twists the tip of her sole. Your cheeks bloat as your throat and stomach ready for a spew. 

She leans in closer with the bottom of her foot never once relenting from your beaten cock. _"Aw, c'mon, you're gonna puke up all of that skim that I generously donated by the buckets? There's no use in crying over spilled milk 'cause I'm gonna make you suck it up off the floor if it comes out."_

You manage to keep the vomit down, having enough will to not let yourself worsen your condition with a retching. 

_"That's a good boy. You might be as weak as a newborn with a chain-smoking mother but that willpower leaves something to be admired, right, girls?"_

_"It's a shame we're gonna crush it,"_ Sasha snarls as she cracks her knuckles.

_"The mind of a rock but the spirit of a lion, Sasha, I love it!"_

The Executioner straddles you and pulls her pants down, wedging your flaccid dick into her pussy after mounting your shins onto your shoulders. As she starts thrusting in and out, forcing you to plow her, she casually requests Tatyana to pass her a scalpel. Upon receiving it, she stabs the wickedly sharp blade into your chest and starts slowly, messily carving a message into your torso while never faltering in your rape. Your body being thrashed about so violently loosens the blindfold, so you get a glimpse of the words from upside down as they run blood down your stomach.

_**"EX'S BITCH"** _

The pain gets so overwhelming you start to slip into the shock coma you were theorizing about earlier. Your body and mind begin to retreat from the agony torturing your penis, torso, and soul, into a vegetative state. Right as the blackout sets in, you feel something metal tightly hug your nipples. Your muscles explode and contract as hundreds of bolts of electricity crash upon your nerves like a tidal wave, and you completely lose control of your bladder, soaking your crotch in urine.

 _"Don't pass out on us now!"_ the Executioner's sunny but muffled words bounce throughout your skull. _"We promised four hours and I'd be damned if we don't deliver!"_

You come to and realize you were hooked up to a car battery whose electric shock yanked you out of your coma. You truly are in Hell. There is no escape, just endless suffering.


	3. Good Ending

You're at least given a few seconds to recover from the fiery pain sousing up into your nervous system and gradually evaporating out. Sasha steps back out of the shadows, pulls her pants and panties down to her boots, and bends over like she's ready to take it from the back. Tatyana removes the battery clamps from your nipples and almost rips the hair from your scalp to shove your face into Sasha's asshole, which you're forced to eat out as you're smothered between her two quivering butt-cheeks. Right before you devolve into a powerless zombie completely broken by all of the sexual torture, the crack in your blindfold picks up something. A gun. A pistol snuggled into the waistband of Sasha's cargo pants as they sag around her knees. You clench your eyes and build up as much strength as you can. You expel this entire night from your head like you're begoning a demon. The terrible snuff that destroyed your innocence as you carelessly browsed the deep web. The heart-wrenching fear as you watched the boots of one of the Kidnappers rummage through your room. The relentless beatings you endured in the back of that van. And the soul-breaking torture these four pieces of human garbage have ruthlessly inflicted upon you for nothing but fun. You forcefully forget it all, which injects you with enough strength to rip the gun out of Sasha's pants, twist around, and blow Tatyana's bosom open with a trio of trigger squeezes. Her bullet-riddled corpse slums down onto you and the three remaining women stare at the killing like a bunch of deer in headlights.

 _"сука блять!"_ Olga screams in her native language as she shakes out of the shock and unholsters her pistol.

You manage to shred her skull open with a headshot before she can fire, filling the room with another dead body. Sasha pathetically scrambles to her feet with her ass wiggling behind her, ankles tied together by her pants and panties, and she digs around in desperate search for her gun. Realizing it's in your hands, her eyes go wide before you plant a bullet in between them. The Executioner bolts for the stairs and you unload your gat into her direction, viciously grazing her stomach and sending her to the floor. You spitefully shove Tatyana's carcass off of yourself, shed your blindfold, and walk over to the Executioner as she painfully wallows in an ever growing puddle of her own blood. 

_"Wait!"_ she breathlessly begs you as she crawls away in fear. _"L-Listen! I'm rich thanks to this Red Room shit, I'm a borderline millionaire! If you let me live I can tell you my bank ac-"_

One last gunshot echoes throughout the Red Room as a bullet tears its way into the Executioner's brain via her nose. You watch her grey matter leak out of her ears, and let the emptied pistol clatter to the ground. You stagger over to the laptop, the bridge between this gore-splattered scene and the Executioner's sadistic customers - the sons of bitches who fuel these atrocities in the first place.

 _"You losers **NEED A FUCKING HOBBY!** "_ you yell into the webcam before flipping it the bird and spitting on it. 

You strip Sasha's corpse down to nothing but her mask and gloves. The feeling of clothes is a godsend in the cold, naked hellhole you've managed to gun your way out of, even if those clothes are far too big for you and once belonged to a sociopath who almost ruined your life. Then you loot Tatyana's corpse for the van keys. Right before you exit the bunker, you take an aside glance. Then you go back. You rip off Tatyana's balaclava and see the face of a veteran. A woman conditioned by the atrocities of war. The Chechen-Russian conflict, maybe? Spetsnaz wanted their killers, and they got them. You unmask Sasha and see the face of a brute. Her mind was too savage and simplistic to understand concepts like elegance, or kindness, or empathy. You unmask Olga and see the face of a careless, aloof individual of simple tastes - murder, rape, and torture. Nothing personal, nothing subtle. Finally, you unmask the Executioner, and see the face of a show-woman. Someone who just wanted to entertain, and if that meant reducing innocents to playthings, so be it. You spit on all four of said faces and head for the van as it's bathed in the morning's sunshine, cranking it alive and driving back down the highway to the nearest town. 

On the ride here, you reflected upon your past life and how it was surely over. On the ride back, you reflect upon your future life and how you're going to live it to its fullest. This putrid night will not traumatize you, it will not haunt you, and it will not break you. You won't let it, just as you didn't let the Executioner and her stooges twist you into their slave.  



End file.
